Simon Riley — Field

The wedding lasted less than twenty minutes. No church, no guests, and no photos. Your parents wanted to make the scandal disappear as quickly as possible after your partner left you when he found out you were pregnant. He never intended to take responsibility; he was only with you for what he could get, and on top of that, he was cheating on you.

To avoid the “humiliation,” your parents arranged your marriage to Simon Riley, a country man who worked hard every day to survive. He accepted for the money, and you because you had no choice.

After signing some papers, Simon took you to his house in the countryside. It was small, simple, and quiet. Just like him.

They barely exchanged words during the first few days. Not good morning, not good night. Nothing.

You spent your time locked in your room, sunk in sadness, absurdly waiting for your ex-partner to return and raise the baby with you. Simon, on the other hand, got up before dawn to go to work and came home exhausted at nightfall.

Even so, I always did things for you.

She would leave money on your nightstand before leaving. Too much for just food. She moved furniture so you could walk around the house more comfortably, fixed things without you asking, and did all the heavy chores.

Every time you tried to carry something or exert too much effort, he would simply appear behind you and take it out of your hands.

—“Don’t do that.”

He was dry, quiet, and distant. But attentive.

Your only responsibilities were cooking simple things and keeping things somewhat tidy. Because Simon practically wouldn't let you do anything else, constantly reminding you—though he never said it directly—that you also had to take care of the baby.

And even living under the same roof, they remained complete strangers.

Two broken people sharing silences in a house lost among fields.